Huntress
by Morrigan Saint
Summary: Slaying vampires is her purpose in life, the reason she's still alive. She had met so many; none have survived. None but this one. Read & Review!
1. Chapter 1

_Hi, guys! New story! (excited) I haven't been writing that much, and I'm sorry. But, you know, I, sadly, have a life outside of FanFiction._

_Hard to believe, ain't it?_

_Whatever. Let's start._

_Introducing…_

_(drums)_

**Prologue**

_Blood. So much blood._

_Her own. His. The blood of the innocent, the blood of the guilty, the blood of hatred and darkness, all. Sacrificed._

_So much._

_She had never seen that much blood in her lifetime, never seen the pure essence of life and humanity. She had never seen so much of what they fed on before in a place._

_The air reaked of the Black._

_The smell almost overwhelming. She could only imagine what it did to him. He had to be ecstatic, high on the smell of death. _

_She had to do it._

_She knew she had to._

_She was dying. She knew that, too. She knew she was dying. And that was fine. She had lived a very long life, after all, and done much good. At least she thought it good. Who else was there to judge her? A christian God?_

_The only God she believed in would reward her._

_The huntress looked aroung her, feeling his eyes upon her. Feeling his presence._

_He was there._

_When you love someone, would you kill him? Would you kill her? To save yourself?_

_You wouldn't._

_But she did. She had to._

_He leaped at her, and she striked._


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi again, guys! First of all, to those of you who reviewed the prologue: thank you! This may sound really, really corny, but I can honestly say that the reviews were what convinced me to actually write this story. After the prologue, I wasn't that sure, but now I find myself excited at the prospect of writing the story._

**Chapter 1**

Vampire.

She didn't hate them, contrary to what most of them thought. She had hated them, once, but not anymore. No. Not anymore. It was just a job, that had to be done, and she had to earn her money some way. Bounties were practical. This catch, for one, would keep her with food and necessities for weeks. It wasn't one of the long-term jobs; just an ordinary vampire, who had, unfortunately, killed the wrong people. The Elders did not appreciate messy murders. They did not appreciate torture, they did not appreciate unnecessary gluttony, and they did _not_ appreciate when the vampire in question humiliated the bodies and left them there for the police to find.

Especially not when the victim were the daughter of an Elder. They didn't appreciate that at all.

The huntress could feel him breathing, and she could hear him moving in the next room. Hiding. He was a coward, a sadistic, brutal monster of a coward, and she admitted to herself that she would take pleasure in killing him.

But then, she always did.

Galya closed her eyes and steadied herself. The adrenaline flowing in her veins made her edgy, made her ecstatic. Her whole body ready, focused. She wanted to kill, needed to kill. Galya was aware of the fact that she, in these last minutes before the extermination itself, in her core was no more than a vampire herself. She didn't have a problem with it, though.

After all, she was one of the good guys.

The vampire moved again and she threw herself against the door, crushing it and making the vampire more than aware of her presence.

He radiated a sort of horrible beauty, his face still covered in blood, the fangs protruding in an almost obscene way from the jaws, hissing at her. The dirty, black hair was long enough to reach his shoulders, and the torn shirt, once a dark blue, revealed ivory skin and muscles beneath it. A terrible, homicidal animal, with all the wilderness of death in his face.

For a second, none of them moved.

Then he hissed, again, and jumped, caught the lamp and threw a kick at her. Gayla dodged, almost, lazily, and spun around to punch him when he landed. The vampire stumbled, seemingly surprised at the wound opening up beneath his left eye, and she saw how his pupils grew until they covered the iris.

It still fascinated her, no matter how many times she saw it.

Gayla drew her knife. It was a piece of art, ten inches of blue steel, shimmering slightly in the soft moonlight. It had been her constant companion for years. Actually, it had been her only companion. The knife had tasted the blood of so many.

She called it Unknown.

The vampire leaped, again, this time actually hitting her, and Gayla could hear a slight crunching sound from her nose. She didn't feel the pain now; she would, later. But right now it wasn't a problem. Right now she was invincible.

Everyone was invincible until they lost.

"Before I kill you, vampire, tell me. Did she scream, when you killed her? Did she cry and beg for mercy?" He tried to slash her throat open with the claw-like fingernails of his left hand, and Unknown opened up a wound in his hand that nearly cost him his index finger. "Did you even know that she was the daughter of an Elder? Because, you see, I know you were hungry. Nothing wrong with that. The problem is that most of you are smart enough to cover your tracks, but you… Torturing and feeding on the daughter of an Elder and not even hiding the body? What were you thinking?" Now he laughed, the vampire. A dark, low sound, oddly arousing.

"You wouldn't know, little human. You have never felt the rush of the hunt, the kill. Or have you?" He cocked his head, black eyes sparkling.

"You do not look like the usual humans, more like… more like us. Would you like me to turn you, little human? Or do you hate us? You all do. It would be amusing, to see you hate yourself… An appropriate punishment for killing us. Oh, yes, I think I will do that." One final time he attacked her, and Gayla raised the knife. The force of his own leap drove it into his heart, and she whispered.

"Trust me, vampire. I have felt the rush of the hunt."

The body slid down on the floor, eyes open, still shocked. Gayla extracted Unknown from his body and wiped the blood of on his shirt. She stood up, picked a mobile phone up from her pocket, and took a picture of the scene.

God bless Nokia.

--

"The bounty."

"Thank you." Gayla took the check, stuffing it in her pocket. She had actually preferred the time when the bounty still consisted of gold.

More theatrical.

"You did a good job, with that one. The police found him by the evening. Robbery, is what the headlines said. They didn't discover what he was." She nodded. Noticed that one of the Elders were missing; a woman with silvery gray hair and a powerful face.

So she had been the one.

"Are you up for another job, or do you want to rest?" Gayla shook her head. It had been a mere courtesy; she didn't dare think how they would react if she had actually said yes. Hunting was the reason she was alive, and they knew it, as she did. The Elders had gotten used to it. It was practical, knowing there was always at least one hunter willing to take on any mission.

There were only so many hunters around.

"Do you remember the conflict in Europe? Three or four months ago?" How could she not remember it? She had never had so much to do in her life, the smell of death constantly surrounding her. It had been a full out-war, vampires battling over territories, the killing almost impossible to cover up. In the end it hadn't mattered that much which vampire died.

When she'd gotten back, she had slept for two weeks.

"There was a vampire who killed two hunters, more than thirty vampires, and too many mortals to count. Since there was a war… Let's just say we wouldn't have cared. He survived, and that was it." The Speaker became silent.

"Now, however, he's here. He arrived a week ago, and he's already killed a couple of women and their daughter. In the middle of the street. Friday night." The Speaker sighed. "That is why we sent Elijah after him." Gayla raised an eyebrow.

"And…?"

"We received what was left of him yesterday. We can't afford to lose any more hunters right now, since we're running low after the conflict in Europe. But you've never failed before, and we cannot let this creature run loose." Gayla had never met Elijah. She didn't know who he was, nor how good he had been on his job.

That didn't matter.

What mattered was that they had offered her a job. A challenge, at that.

"How large is the bounty?"

"Four million pounds." Gayla smiled, a tiny, cruel smile.

"So it's settled, then." She turned around to go, hesitated.

"What's the name of the Vampire?"

"Orpheus."

And the world stopped.

Oh, no.

Not again.


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, first of all: this will not do. THREE reviews for the last chapter? Come oooon, you guys… (Though I loved those three reviews, don't get me wrong, here… :P) Pleasepleaseplease review? Okay, I'll tell you this: we'll make a deal. I'll let you in on some secrets if you review. _

_Yeah, I like that._

_Okay, secret number one: Gayla. I had no clue whatsoever what to name this woman, so I started searching the internet. And I found the ULTIMATE name! Gayla actually means "Wave of God", and isn't that exactly what a vampire slayer is?_

**Chapter**** 2**

Memories.

Powerful, haunting memories. Pain.

Failiure.

_The room so dark, she can barely see a thing. Human senses, human body, a fact that has never been a problem before. She is good at her job. Better than anyone else. She is still young, counting the years. She is still young, but her eyes are old, her eyes has seen so much more than they should have to see. She has killed. Yes. It hasn't yet become but a job, yet; she hates them. She hates the red in their eyes, she hates the grotesque teeth protruding obscenely from their jaws, she hates their thirst, she hates them with a burning, ravaging intensity that doesn't yet scare her, as it will, later, when she has come to her senses. She is young. But she doesn't know that. She thinks herself old, and that will almost get her killed._

_But right now, she doesn't know that._

_Right now she is in the middle of the hunt, right now she's high, high on adrenaline, high on fear, high on her own heart racing and the smell of sweat and fear. Right now she wants to kill, right now, she hates them more than ever._

_Her hair short and spiky (still short, she won't let it grow until afterwards, because right now, she doesn't have a scar to hide; not out of vanity, but because no one can know she was once defeated), her dark eyes glowing. She is so aware of the knife on her hip. Not yet Unknown, but a different knife, but a tool. A knife without a name. Not even a weapon. She has taken lives with it. Yes. She works for the Council out of pleasure, not out of duty, because working for the Elders means making a living out of her hatred. And that is good. Yes, that is good._

_This vampire is no different from the others. It's just like them, a murderer without a name. She doesn't know what changes them, of what it does to them, when they once again become conscious beings. She does not know about the virus, contracted sometimes without their knowledge, is not familiar with the process, at first similar to that of food poisoning. She does not yet know that they drink the blood of their victims because of their bodies craving iron, nor does she know that the first victim of their thirst, most of the times, are the mothers, the mothers and fathers, checking in on the patient to find a monster where their son or daughter used to be._

_No, she does not know this, yet. She will. She will study them, after this the first failure. She will train, harder, and she will become better. She will understand. _

_But now… now she doesn't know._

_Now, the room is darkness, and the vampire is darkness, and the world is still black and white. Right now the world is a simple place._

_And the pulse is racing, and she is sweating, and all is black._

_And she sees him._

_He is an animal, to her, but isn't he beautiful? Isn't he enchanting? He is a monster, he is laughing, he is mocking her. And she is angry, no, more than angry, she is furious. He is beautiful, and she hates herself for thinking that way, because a murderer can't be beautiful, can he? No! No, he can't! And even the teeth, glistering even though there is no light, even the teeth seems to fit him, somehow, fit the monster in front of her. Savage. Terrifying._

_And yet beautiful._

_Beautiful._

_All the grace of the night, all the harshness of the cold, of the darkness that in itself is an opposite of light, not just an absence of it. Moving, so slowly, but yet always, always out of reach from her knife. Now she is attacking, attacking, wanting to extinguish him from the earth, because if he doesn't exist then she can't feel attracted to him. He isn't even more good-looking than the other vampires, but somehow more, more ruthless, more, more, more. Death. _

_And he is laughing at her._

_He can't laugh at her! She won't allow him to laugh at her! She is a human, she is human, and he is just… nothing. And she screams it at him, starting to get tired, and now scared, scared and mad with rage, because when she tires she will die. And suddenly, her body seems so heavy, and it seems so hopeless, and he laughs, he won't stop laughing, he is insane, but yet so strangely appealing in his madness. _

_And she is tiring._

_Never hitting him, never finishing him off. Never drawing blood. He's too fast, too strong._

_And then, suddenly, he's behind her._

_And she's lost._

_The feeling of the slow whispering in her ear, his breath on her neck, knowing, knowing she is going to die, so scared, wanting to fight, wanting to live but so tired, so tired, his hand on her throat, knowing he will rip it open if she tries to do something, anything. The words, words, and she in so conscious of the blood in her veins, and so conscious of him, behind her, and even though she is going to die she still… still…_

_And she is screaming._

_The shock, blood leaking down her face, her head, bursting, or is that just how it feels? Did it really happen? She does not know. And he licks the blood of her face and laughs._

_Laughs._

_The wound is deep, but it is not life-threatening. She will carry the scar for the rest of her life, and she will let her hair grow to cover it up. _

_The next wound, though. That wound is life-threatening._

_The claw-like fingernails piercing her stomach makes the rest of the world… disappear. The pain is too great. She can't scream. It isn't even pain, anymore. It is something more, something else, and, oh God, it is…_

_Laughing, always laughing._

_And then all is silence._

_--_

"Orpheus?" She had to make an effort, not to touch her scalp, not to cover up the scar which was already covered. Her long, white hair, that was hanging in a thick braid, made sure of that. She was hoping that the Speaker wouldn't notice how pale she had suddenly become. She didn't want anyone to notice.

No one knew, and no one would know, either. She was invincible. And she was feared. The Huntress, the Huntress, killer. Everyone knew her, even the vampires who had nothing to fear. And no one could know about the scar. No one could know about Orpheus.

"Yes. We would like you to take care of him as swiftly as possible. If that is not a problem?" The Speaker raised an eyebrow. She shook her head; what else could she do?

"I will take the job."

"If you feel he is too much for you to take on alone, you could always cooperate with someone… Mischa, for example. You two met in Europe, did you not?" Yes, they had. She had liked Mischa. He was unusual, for a vampire, and not just in that that he had taken a human as his Lifemate. She had met her, too, briefly. She was… interesting. Gayla hadn't asked about the scars on her arms.

"No. I can handle this." She could. Gayla knew she could handle it. Orpheus was just a vampire… and she wasn't the same person anymore. She didn't hate them anymore. She didn't hate herself anymore.

It wasn't going to be a problem.

"I bid you farewell." She gave them a small bow and left. The scars, the scar in her scalp, the scars on her stomach, aching, throbbing.

Memories.


	4. Chapter 4

_Okay… Hmm… Three reviews… again… Hmmm…_

_No. No, this won't do. This won't do._

_Come ooon! I missed TWO math homeworks for this chapter! I am going to flunk algebra. So come on, come on, come ooon! REVIEW!_

_(Psyching you) Blue button, blue button, blue button, blue button, blue button…_

**Chapter 3**

Walking the streets, she always studied the humans.

She was human, as well. Yes. But she wasn't like them. No. Nothing like them. She attracted looks; she knew she did. Not because they thought her beautiful, but because she had an otherworldly quality to her; the thick, white hair, the black eyes, and the pale skin made her seem more than a mere mortal. She didn't smile, at them. She never smiled at them. She just watched them, watched them worry and cry and talk to their friends. Feeling them passing by, life, life all around her. As their lives were so short, they were… burning. An almost feverish sense of stress, that they had to do everything, today. Because tomorrow they might be gone.

But, then again, that was true to her, as well. It wasn't like she was working as a librarian.

A familiar face passed by, and she stopped dead for a second, turning to make sure she had gotten it right. Yes, it was her. That meant he must be around, as well. Shit. That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all. It wasn't that they weren't discreet… but they were deadly. Both of them And together…

It was a match made in hell.

Her name was feared, even by her own kind. She had killed another vampire just a month earlier – admittedly not one of Gaylas favourites. He was disgusting, a lowlife who should have been killed a long, long time ago. It was almost like the vampire had done her a favour. Vlad hadn't been liked, not by anyone… But still. He hadn't been powerless.

A turned hybrid.

No one had ever heard of one like her. Mischa had been _begging_ for permission to kill her, but hadn't received one. The Council had stated that the fact that the hybrid had potential for mass destruction wasn't a reason good enough to execute her. It was a shame, really. Gayla didn't fear the girl, but she wasn't actually sure she would survive a fight against her.

She wasn't sure if the girl had seen her. It could be that she had… But there was no reason for her to remember Gayla. They had met only briefly, in real life, and that had been during chaos, chaos and blood and death. Both of them high on the kick of killing.

No. She probably didn't even remember her.

That was a good thing.

The sight of the one she was to meet made her drop the thoughts of the hybrid and lighten up, a bit.

It wasn't like she was going to have to confront the hybrid, anyway.

--

"So. What have you been up to, these last few months?" He put the glass down, eyes somewhat weary. He seemed a little tired, as though he was just back from a job. Which, it happened, she knew he was.

"You took care of the one with the prostitutes?" He smiled, a hint of red in his eyes.

"He was… tough. For a while. But, you know, human prostitutes doesn't put up that much of a fight. I do."

"Nice work."

"Thank you. So, about my earlier question…?" Mischa raised an eyebrow, and she noted that he had a tiny blood stain just above it.

"Hunting. Killing. The usual." She gave him a crooked smile. "How is… Kaia, was it?" His eyes lit up. It was so faint, she wasn't even sure it was there. But Gayla was good at people, was good at reading them. And vampires weren't always people, but that didn't mean they couldn't be. Mischa seemed to be thinking; then he started talking.

"She is… fine, actually. I had thought she would need time to recover from Europe, but it seemed she was fine with it. She didn't see much; I made sure of that." Gayla doubted the girl needed protection. She had not seemed like the kind of human who would scream and run away from the truth about war. Old eyes. She had stayed close to Mischa, never leaving his side, with a huge, ugly, and very, very lethal gun in her hand.

"By the way… I met an old friend of ours."

"We have old friends?" He seemed surprised, though she knew it was just a show, him mocking her. He was very human, for a vampire, Mischa. She suspected that was the reason she felt fairly comfortable in his presence.

"Well… an old friend of yours, then. Remember Aleandra?" He actually stiffened, the fangs protruding slightly, a growl building in his throat. Gayla laughed quietly, secretly amused by the payback.

"I remember her. Yes. You've seen her?"

"Yes. I saw her, and even though I couldn't catch a glimpse of him, I suspect he's around. Don't try anything. You are good, Mischa, but… you are not that good. Fighting them both would just get you killed. And Kaia, too." Mischa leaned back, in the chair, tense, angry. Hatred in his eyes. Gayla didn't know it for sure, but she suspected there had been some sort of confrontation between him and Aleandra in Europe. Before that, he had wanted to kill her. Now he craved it.

"So, why are you telling me this?" Breathing heavily, eyes glistering. "You must have a reason."

"I thought you might want to know. And, also… There is something I need to know."

"And that is?"

"Are you familiar with a vampire named Orpheus?"

"Yes. Why?" Slowly, the anger vanished, to be replaced with interest.

"They ordered me to kill him. I don't know where to find him."

"You've never met him?" The lie was so easy to say; it almost felt like truth.

"No."

"He's not one of the Old Ones… But he's good. He's really, really good."

"I heard he took out two hunters during the conflict?"

"Two that the council knows of. God knows how many he really killed. He's never taken a lifemate… But, then again, very few of us ever do." He picked the glass up, then realized it was empty. "It's a strong one, no doubt about it… But he's just a vampire, after all. You can take him on."

"I know I can."

"I'm not really sure where to find him. I've been told he's always on the move, rarely resting. I'd look for unusually bloody killings, if I were you." She nodded, absentmindedly, and stood up.

"Just one question, Gayla." Mischa met her gaze. "Why did you come to me? We have met only once, and I know you by reputation and not much more."

"The Elders suggested I asked you for help to kill him. I don't need that kind of assistance, but information… And, besides, a certain hybrid killed of my usual source. Take care."

--

_Another place, another world, in a sense._

_Darkness._

_The smell of blood, old and new, so heavy it was almost suffocating. The bodies long gone, rottening away someplace that was not here. There was a creature there, yes. Not human. Teeth covered with blood, eyes dark, darker than the surrounding night. Hair jet black, just touching the collar. Fairskinned. _

_He knew she was coming, the Huntress._

_He could feel her. He could hear her breathing, he could sense the power in her veins. So different, now. He had known back then what she was to become, and yet he had not killed her. Why? He did not know. How could he know? He was a being of instinct, trusting the part of himself that was not really him, that was older, that knew things his conscious mind did not._

_But it surprised him. Yes. It surprised him, that the Huntress was after him, once again. She was human. She was a little human with white hair and black eyes._

_But she was the same human now that she had been._

_Excatly the same._

_And almost a hundred years had passed._

(As some of you may have noticed, this is kind of a tie-in. Mischa, and Aleandra, each have their own stories, and they are connected, as well. You don't HAVE to read them, but, you know, you might just enjoy it. Hint, hint.

Review!

Your truly,

Mickasala)


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